


make me feel like hope again

by olivja



Category: The Book Thief - Markus Zusak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:43:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivja/pseuds/olivja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Liesel," Max said, hands still moving across the typewriter quickly. "Are you going to say hello, or are you just going to continue to stare?"</p><p>"I was considering staring."</p><p>"That's good to know."</p><p>For Laura.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make me feel like hope again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohwhatagloomyshow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohwhatagloomyshow/gifts).



Max was seated at his desk, thin torso curved over his typewriter, his back to Liesel.

She stood straight up in the doorway, watching Max as he breathed, as his fingers and hands moved.

He was wearing only a sleeveless nightshirt, and peeking through the thin, pale fabric, and seeping over the edges of the sleeves, were pink lines varying in size, in thickness. They healed more every year, fading, but would always be there, a consistent reminder of all the times he'd punched Death square in the jaw.

Liesel knew Max was not fond of them, was sometimes embarassed to peel off his clothes, embarassed to bathe or be naked in front of her.

She, meanwhile, feared them but loved them, too. 

"Liesel," Max said, hands still moving across the typewriter quickly. "Are you going to say hello, or are you just going to continue to stare?"

"I was considering staring."

"That's good to know."

There was a pause, where the only sound was the clicking of the typewriter keys alongside their breathing. Then - "hello, Max."

Turning in his seat, stretching out his wiry limbs, Max looked at Liesel and smiled at her. "Hi, Liesel."

He reached out his hand, and Liesel had quickly stepped forward, buckled shoes noisy against the floor, and then her hand was in his. Max's pointer finger slid over Liesel's wedding ring, his eyes on her hand, and then smiled up at Liesel.

"How was your day?"

Liesel considered. "It was fine. Went to the shop for awhile, walked along Burgersaalkirche for awhile. And yours?"

Max turned back to his desk, where papers flooded the desk. "I've gotten some writing done. I've written to a memorial that's being established in Israel - I heard about it years ago, but it looks like it's finally going forward. They're taking records, both witness and papers, of those dead in the Holocaust. Thought I might lend some."

She smiled down at him, and ran a gentle hand over his hair, tugging at one of the pieces that fell from where it was combed back. "Good. I think you should. And now," Liesel grinned, slapping away his hand as it fell to the curve of her hip, "I'm going to take a bath."

"Am I not welcome?"

"You always are."

"I might. I just need to finish up this part - The Struggler, concluded."

Liesel smiled, proud, and turned. "Zipper?"

"This is all I'm good for," he sighed, unzipping her dress to her hips and kissing a spot of open skin. "Isn't it?"

She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "You're alright at being handsome. That might be about all."

Max grinned, leaning his forehead against her back. "Go on, you woman, before you kill me."

Kicking off her shoes, Liesel made her way quickly to the bathroom, running the water hot enough that steam rose up off of it. She slipped off her dress, hanging it over a chair that sat in the corner. Sitting down, Liesel rolled off her pantyhose carefully, and then pulled off her undergarmets.

She climbed into the bath gratefully, and laid down with her back against the lip of the tub, her head resting against it's edge. Liesel wondered about the future, about the baby she would have, about Max as a Father, her as a Mother, about Israel and Stuttgart and Molching. Liesel wondered where they would all end up, whether they would live through wars again or whether they would know nothing but peace and full stomachs.

Unknowingly, Liesel's hand had wandered to her still-flat stomach, and she imagined it blown up and round, a foot kicking against her hand.

At the same time, Max had walked into the bathroom, and began to watch her.

"What are you doing?" He asked. He was more quiet than usual, and Liesel was worried for a moment.

"Nothing," she supplied quickly, sitting up. "I thought you had something to finish writing. Or was The Struggler so easily concluded?"

"Not so. I just decided that," his socks were tossed off, "I have a very beautiful wife," his shirt, "and I decided that I must, must, must spend time with such a woman."

"A good choice," Liesel said, staring as he undid his trousers, and pulled them down. Off his underclothes went, and he was in the bath with her in a moment, back against the opposite end of the tub, his knees against hers.

"And what's plaguing your mind? What struggles meet you? What -"

"Nothing. But - Max."

"Liesel."

"I've something to tell you."

"And why don't you?"

"It’s a secret."

He grinned, pinched the exposed skin of her slender shoulder between his fingers, his calloused thumb and forefinger. “And who would I tell?”

She slid forward, closer to Max, and her husband's hands were on her face, cupping her cheeks, in a second. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and worried. "Liesel, what is it?"

Liesel was smiling, then, and there were tears in her eyes. "I'm pregnant."

"What?"

"I'm _pregnant_."

Max's mind caught up a moment to late, and then he was smiling, and he was laughing, and he was crying.

They hugged, there, awkwardly, in the tub, the two of them soaking wet and both crying, both laughing.

He kissed her hard, hard as he'd kissed her on their wedding day, and when he smiled, she could see his crooked teeth.

It was a Thursday in 1954, and the two could see their future spread out like a book.

**Author's Note:**

> The memorial Max mentions writing to is Yad Vashem!


End file.
